


amor fati

by troubled



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubled/pseuds/troubled
Summary: your heart shall rest upon this bed of thorns and roses.it's a love story (perhaps). told in three parts.
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin, Sung Hoon/Jung Yunho
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	amor fati

**Author's Note:**

> didn't think i'm gonna be making this into three parts but here we are.

Changmin’s grin is something ripped right out of horror movies and Yunho doesn’t even bother trying to escape. He knows helplessness enough to give it a name (he calls it _Changmin_ in his head, never _hyung_ ). The classroom is empty this late in the evening, the setting sun sweeping hues of reds and oranges across sterile white. Yunho sighs, closes his notebooks and shoves them inside his bag. He should’ve gone home sooner, should’ve accepted Hojun’s invitation, but he knows he’s just prolonging the inevitable.

There’s no escape from Changmin.

Changmin snaps the door close with a heel. The grin cuts wider, deeper into his cheeks.

“What do you want, hyung?”

Yunho learnt that being polite has its merits, although it never worked on the older boy. Who’s making his way towards Yunho and Yunho’s stomach clenches with apprehension at the look on Changmin’s face. The clicks of his polished shoes, one step at a time, dragging out the torture. Changmin is perfectly put-together, as always. Styled hair, expensive touches to their regular uniform. The celebrated Shim Changmin, never a toe out of line. So popular that he has his own fan club.

If only they know what who he really is.

Changmin finds a chair and drags it, wood screeching, over to Yunho’s desk. It clatters noisily when Changmin parks too close to Yunho’s outstretched legs. “I heard someone confessed to you today.”

Yunho fights the urge to say _so what_ so hard he almost bites his tongue. Doesn’t ask how Changmin found out because it doesn’t matter. Instead, he shrugs. He pulls his feet back just an inch. It’s not like he’s concerned that Changmin might slam the chair’s legs onto his toes but who knows, _right_. He isn’t risking anything with the dance competition just a week away. “Yeah,” he eventually says, because Changmin’s expecting an answer.

And Yunho always ( _always_ ) obliges him.

“That’s interesting.” Changmin’s voice is mild, but his eyes narrow. He leans forward, closer. Yunho itches to reel away. “Tell me more.”

So Yunho does. Sung Hoon is a senior in his hapkido club: tall, dark and good-looking. Almost as popular as Changmin, except he keeps a lower profile since he isn’t the heir of one of South Korea’s largest telco companies. They’re sparring partners, more often than not, and Sung Hoon always comes across as laidback and accommodating. Slightly quirky, behind the cool, collected façade once they spend more time together. When he’d asked to talk privately and proceeded to confess to Yunho during lunch earlier, nervous enough to fumble through his words, Yunho had found him endearing, couldn’t help turning red at the sincerity in the senior’s low, warm voice. Yunho tried to turn him down, knows he isn’t good enough for him ( _for anyone_ ), but Sung Hoon had refused. Said something along the line of ' _I’ll be waiting until you’re ready_ ’ and cupped a hand over Yunho’s jaw.

He looked like he was thinking of kissing Yunho, but he didn’t and they parted ways just as the bell rang.

It was pretty and heartfelt and Yunho wished it could’ve been enough.

“You like him.”

“What?” Yunho blinks, blindsided by the accusation. The calculating sharpness in Changmin’s eyes makes him shudder and he shrinks back into his own chair. He hates the heat that’s crawled into his cheeks. “No. Of course not.”

Changmin snorts. Before Yunho can do anything, he straightens and kicks away his chair. It topples onto the floor with a loud bang, the sound making Yunho grimace. But he has more pressing matters to worry about; Changmin had closed the distance between them, standing before Yunho like something out of a nightmare. This is a familiar dance, the push and the pull and the turning around, and they always end the same way. Yunho licks his lips, eyes skittering towards the door and thinks about telling Changmin _no_ this time. About running and not looking back and maybe— maybe he’s be able to break free this time.

But Changmin catches his wrist and his resolve disappears like a sandcastle swept away by a vicious wave, and that’s how he ends up spread out on the table, pants and underwear somewhere on the floor and getting finger-fucked by the president of the student body.

“What would he think if he sees you like this?” Changmin whispers, cruel and gleeful. His fingers are shoved into Yunho hard, scissoring and curling and making Yunho’s legs jerk when he finds that bundle of nerves inside. Yunho’s mouth is open in a wordless, breathless moan, eyes screwing shut when he comes on Changmin’s fingers. He imagines Sung Hoon standing at the doorway, watching him fall apart under Changmin’s hands and that makes his cock twitch. Changmin laughs, sharp and bitter. “You’d like that, huh? You’d let me fuck you while he watches?”

Yunho shakes his head, but his body betrays him and Changmin’s laughter gets louder. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Yunho’s shirt, before straightening. Changmin’s looking down at him with an indecipherable glint in his eyes and Yunho wants nothing more than to curl into himself. There’s come striping his stomach and chest and his thighs are slippery with lube, reminding him that he still has to walk home later. Changmin moves to the side and rummages through Yunho’s bag, coming up with his mobile phone.

The little cat charm Jihye had given him for his birthday stares at him in the half-dark.

Yunho’s stomach churns with self-disgust and he feels like throwing up.

“Call him.” Changmin punches in Yunho’s password and opens the contact list. Holds out the phone to him, expectant. “You have his number, right?”

Yunho pushes himself up and takes the phone with a shaking hand. He frowns at Changmin. “Why—” He’s ignored, as Changmin moves closer and Yunho suddenly finds it harder to breathe. He ducks his head and scrolls through the list, thumb hovering over a name somewhere near the end. Dread crawls along the length of his spine as he reads the name. _Sung Hoon-hyung_. There’s a smiley emoji right next to it that Sung Hoon had added when he put in the numbers. “W-What am I supposed to say?”

“Tell him how happy you are that he confessed,” Changmin says. When Yunho hesitates for too long, he kicks the leg of the table. “Go on. Call him.”

Yunho grimaces and hits the _call_ button. He swallows the bile rising at the back of his throat, doesn’t have to wait long to get connected.

“ _Hello? Yunho?_ ” The voice is warm, happy. Sung Hoon also sounds slightly breathless, as if he’d run to pick up the call. “ _What’s up?_ ”

“Hyung, I’m sorry for disturbing you—”

He starts to say, but trails off when Changmin presses closer. Changmin’s unbuckling his pants and Yunho’s eyes widen when he realises what’s about to happen. He shakes his head frantically, shifting on the table and trying to get away from Changmin. Who just clamps a hand over his thigh and grips hard enough to bruise, anchoring Yunho in place. The warning glare makes his breath hitch and he stops moving, frozen stiff. Changmin lets Yunho go to pull his zipper down and take out his cock, giving the hard, straining flesh a couple tugs. Yunho stares at Changmin’s cock as the voice in his ear tells him that _it’s okay, you can call me anytime_ and _where are you?_

Changmin gives him a sharp nod. Yunho jerks, barely remembers what he has to do.

“I-I’m still at school. I just want to- to thank you for looking out for me—”

Changmin spreads Yunho’s thighs wider to fit himself between them and guides the thick head of his cock to Yunho’s hole. Just pressing there, brushing against the rim over and over again. Smearing precome along with the lube, but still dry enough that the penetration would’ve been painful. It’s always too tight, too much with Changmin and both of them know that’s why _this_ works (despite Yunho’s tears and protests and tightly-corralled screams). Changmin’s hands push him flat against the table, nails sinking deeper and harder, and Yunho’s head is blanking out. He feels like crawling out of his skin, just so he can be anywhere but there.

“Tell him you like him,” Changmin whispers, fingertips trailing over the inside of Yunho’s thigh. To his balls and the patch of skin behind it. Yunho bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. “C'mon, Yunho.”

“I—” Changmin’s cock bumps against him again, prying open Yunho’s hole as he starts to slide inside. The burn is excruciating. Yunho bites back a sob, struggling to not move, and blurts out, “I like you, hyung!”

He doesn’t even get to hear the response from the other end because Changmin chooses that very moment to slam all the way in. Yunho lets out a strangled sound, halfway between a yelp and a wail and he would’ve dropped his phone if not for Changmin prying it off him. He’s still trying to drag air into his lungs when he’s laid out on the table again, one leg propped up against Changmin’s shoulder and Changmin’s cock fucking into him like a jackhammer. Changmin rides him hard and fast, pulling Yunho back into each shove of his cock so even as Yunho’s whole body is being ridden up the table, Changmin’s dragging him back where he wants him. Yunho hears how he moans and cries out like a cheap whore as he writhes on Changmin’s cock and hates himself just a little bit more.

And when Changmin grabs him, jacks him off with too-tight grip, Yunho comes so hard he’s seeing stars at the back of his eyelids.

He’s dragged off the table then, gets bent over it and Changmin continues fucking him with the kind of ruthless harshness that promises to make him incapable of moving and sitting down without being reminded of the older boy. He’s too exhausted and fucked out to do anything but take it, and the sloppy sound of their fucking fills his ears. Bounces off the walls, making him feel claustrophobic. Changmin’s pace is turning erratic and he’s chasing his own orgasm, coming deep in Yunho’s ass after a few more thrusts. Yunho can feel the thick liquid leaking out of him when Changmin pulls out, but he’s too busy trying to stay on his feet to care. His cheeks are wet and he’s shakily pushing away from the table, pulling his underwear up when he meets Changmin’s eyes.

Who’s picking up Yunho’s phone from the adjacent table, the loudspeaker icon highlighted, and says, “Hope you enjoyed the show.”

He cuts the call and tosses the phone into Yunho’s backpack. A smirk scythes across his face as he pats Yunho’s cheek, thumb smearing the tear track he finds there. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yunho stares at the ceiling and desperately tries to breathe, doesn’t move as he listens to Changmin closing the door behind him. Cleaning up takes a while as it hurts to move and he has to limp his way home, conscious of the glances he gets from strangers. As if they know what he’d done, how dirty he is. How _ugly_. Jihye asks him why he’s late and he tells her the same lies, listens as she complains that he’s never home on time. He goes up to shower, has to scrape out the residue of Changmin’s come from inside him and stands under the spray of hot water until he hears his mother knocking on his door to tell him that dinner’s ready. His skin is scrubbed pink. Raw. The bruises are starting to darken in earnest. He can still feel where Changmin had touched him and that makes him run to the toilet bowl, knees scraping the tiles as he heaves out nothing but stomach acid.

He grits his teeth throughout dinner, hips and ass throbbing in protest, and spends the entire night awake, lying on his side.

His phone beeps with a message at around 3 am.

There’s a singular line on the screen, right underneath Sung Hoon’s name:

_why did you do it?_

Yunho stares at the question and wishes he knows the answer.

*

**tbc**

*

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